Stephen leaned back and hid his face with his hand, his busy brain at work on this last turn of the wheel.
“Go on,” he said.
“That is all, sir.”
Stephen was silent for a minute or two, then he turned to the writing table and wrote for some minutes.
“Go to Moss to-morrow morning,” he said, “and tell him not to press Mr. Newcombe, and I don’t think he will require more than the hint—but you may say I will buy all Mr. Newcombe’s bills at a fair price. Mind! I want every I O U and bill that Mr. Newcombe gives. You understand?”
“I understand, Mr. Stephen,” said Slummers, and a faint, malicious smile stole over his face.
“And if Mr. Moss likes to oblige Mr. Newcombe with a little loan, I will take the bill. You understand?”
Slummers nodded.
“Here is the letter to Moss for his own satisfaction. He will not mention my name.”
Slummers took the note. Stephen passed his hand over his forehead, and turned his back to the light.